


Mutatio

by YoursG



Category: Friends (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack Fic, Gen, Humor, I have no idea what I'm doing, Parody, Utter Nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoursG/pseuds/YoursG
Summary: What happens when a certain Pete Becker's body rebels against him?
Kudos: 1





	Mutatio

**Author's Note:**

> Summary  
> What happens when a certain Pete Becker's body rebels against him?

And finally, _finally_ , he was oh-so-close to achieving his dream. This match would determine for once and for all whether his vision, ambition was meant to be, or not. Not that he’d give up even if he lost the match.

Pete Becker was lost in his delusional thoughts, while preparing for the next match in his quest to become the UFC Champion. Of course, he was no close to becoming the champion than he had been when he started out. And in his desperation to “conquer the physical world”, he had managed to render himself bankrupt. But there was no one to tell that to him.

And with these pretentious thoughts, he descended in the ring, for what he did not know, was the final time. And the fight commenced. Pete was up against a seven-feet tall giant of man, made of pure muscle. He thought, rather deluded, that his odds were good, which of course, they weren’t. Just so to make it clear, _his odds were abysmal_. Never mind that he refused to see the truth.

And as expected, he lost. Spectacularly. Little did he know that his match was not the only thing he lost. But let’s focus on the match and it’s aftermaths, lest we get too ahead of ourselves.

Pete Becker was completely broke. And confined to the hospital ward because he was in a coma. He wouldn’t have let that stop him either, only if he’d had consciousness, which his body wasn’t ready to offer him right now. It was quite angry with the headstrong, obstinate little part of his mind that had clouded his usually sane judgement and made an imbecile out of him. In fact, his body was protesting, rather vigorously, might I add.

The leg screamed, “This buffoon of a man had me crushed. Twice. And didn’t even let me recover.”

His hand, “I know, right? He let me be twisted and turned, and _tortured_ , as if I hadn’t made him a millionaire in the first place. That bastard!”

His ribs huffed, “Does he even know how hard it is to keep him alive when I’m broken? My own splinter could pierce his heart or lungs, and then. Then he’d be _dead_. The moron!”

His lips whined, “Now that he’s ruined me, how is he going to get that sensible, pretty girl, Monica, back? The bloody idiot can’t even kiss!”

And so continued the (very valid) complaints.

Until the brain intervened. It had firmly shut off the UFC-crazed, deranged part of his mind, kept him in a coma, and was going to keep him so until they could figure out a solution. Even it could not take the abuse anymore.

So the brain spoke in a commanding voice, compelling everyone to listen to the voice of reason, “I understand, my dear fellows, that you have suffered terribly, believe me, having suffered through it myself, I really do. But complaining is not going to get us anywhere. We need to find a solution. A way to kill the UFC-bandit (for that is what they referred to it as). Please offer any sensible, workable solution, and I will try to implement it.”

The nose offered, “Smother it in sleep?” (Nobody dignified it with a comment.)

The crotch said, “Keep it shut-off like you are doing right now?” Hmmm. The brain thought. That suggestion did have some merit in it. But…

Brain replied, “I wish I could, but as long as that part is shut off, we will remain in coma. I’m afraid I’ve kept something from you, but the UFC-bandit is in fact his….. consciousness.”

Everybody started shouting all at once. How could the the brain keep such an important piece of information from them? This was unfair! They should have been informed. How were they going to escape this mess now? It sent the nurse in quite a flurry of panic, a sudden spike in heart rate, hands twitching, stomach heaving, ribs rumbling. Until everyone calmed down.

Brain pacified them, “Well, I thought it could be reined in. And I didn’t want to cause you panic. I apologise for my action. But now, we really must focus. Because I won’t be able to keep his consciousness shut off for long. We have a week, at the most. Then, if we don’t liberate his consciousness, he will die. And so will we.”

This got everyone thinking. They had to come up with a solution. And quick. Suddenly, his heart exclaimed, “Of course! I was so stupid! I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we format the consciousness. Erase all the data, let it acquire some new one. That way he can get a new life and we can survive. Intact, this time, hopefully!”

Everyone looked at heart with amazement for a moment, and then they all cheered. Of course, it was so simple! Why hadn’t they thought of it before! They knew there was a reason they adored the heart. The heart just blushed scarlet under their gushes and praises.

The brain looked at the heart from afar with admiration. It had loved heart for quite some time now, but it was always difficult to confess that sort of thing, wasn’t it?

The plan was brilliant, and fail-proof. Thus, the hard disk of the mind of a man called Pete Becker was erased. Too bad there wasn’t a Pete Becker anymore. Now someone would give him a new name, a new life. It was all sorted!

In a hospital in New York, the man who had been brought in after being severely injured, finally woke up from his coma. It was mildly interesting for the doctors that the man remembered nothing, _absolutely nothing_ , about himself. Not even his name.

One day, a young boy of about four, wandered in his ward. He was one curious young man. He asked a lot of questions. And boy did he talk!

The boy spoke, “Ummm, hello? I’m Peter Parker. What’s that instrument in your arm?”

The man (who we can no longer call Pete Becker) replied, “That’s a cast. And that is an IV. It helps me to intake fluids and food.” He pointed out the cast and the IV to him.

Peter stared at him with eyes as big and round as saucers and said, “Whoa!”, in an awed tone. This was awesome!

He asked the man, “Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

The man looked at him blankly for a moment. Then he looked away and muttered, “I don’t know.”

Peter demanded, “What do you mean you don’t know? Everybody knows their name!”

The man replied, “Well, Peter, I don’t. And before you ask, I don’t remember anything about my life either.”

Peter nodded like he understood. He seemed to be doing some serious thinking, well, as much serious thinking a child of four is capable of.

And then, very seriously, he said, “Well, since you don’t have a name, I’m going to give you one. I’m gonna call you Happy. Because you look like a Happy. And, and, what about your last name? Your last name – last name, would….. be…… Now let me think.”

Again, he seemed to be undergoing some serious conflict. And then, his eyes lit up.

He continued, as if he had never paused, “And your last name would be Hogan. Because you sound like a Hogan.” All the while, the man who was now to be called Happy Hogan, watched the kid with amusement.

Peter continued with a proud and excited smile, “Nice to meet you, Happy Hogan.”

Happy indulged him and said, “Nice to meet you too, Peter Parker.”

Peter beamed and wandered off, no doubt, to offer his cheering and amusing services to some other poor patient.

Happy Hogan now had a name. And he could build a history, too, he guessed, if he could create a new name. Maybe he should become a professional fighter!

And his body groaned in unison.

The rest, as they say, is history!

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think?


End file.
